


John's Pub

by TheGirlWithTheBrokenSoul



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Post Traumatic Stress, Repressed memories of the war, Shock, no actual relationship, platonic, systemofhaimish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithTheBrokenSoul/pseuds/TheGirlWithTheBrokenSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post Reinbach ( 4 years actually. 3 of John believing Sherlock is dead. 1 in which he tells John he's alive). John's favorite pub become's a new favorite for the local college kids and john stops going.<br/>NOTE: THIS IS AN ANGSTY FIC! John has to go to the hospital and Sherlock believes he's responsible for it.<br/>There are no MCDs and unfortunately, no actual relationship between John and Sherlock ( Although it's established quiete clearly that they care very much for each other)</p><p>I am actually very proud of this and this is the longest Fic i've written so far<br/>but I tried and therefore no one should judge me.</p><p>Also, I am just borrowing the characters and will return them upon request.<br/>FOR systemofhaimish BECAUSE I KNOW YOU LOVE ANGST.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For Systemofhaimish   
> ALSO, SPOT THE METAPHOR

John stopped going to the pub in September. “The place has been overrun by college kids.” he claimed. “playing their dancey music and being noisy”. Sherlock just smirked at him and how old he sounded. John didn't respond as he knew he should when he spoke his thoughts. Instead of his normal low chuckle, John got very quiet and stayed very quiet. He should have known something was wrong. John had been less tolerant of Sherlock since then, but he knew the pub was only half the reason. Something was bothering John and he wouldn't talk about it. They'd fight all the time. John couldn't help but think even when Sherlock commanded him not to. There was yelling, doors slamming and the repeated “I'M GOING FOR MILK.” and a huff as John walked out to Baker Street. Then once, just the once, John didn't come home. Sherlock was worried something had happened to him and he knew it wasn't a kidnapping. No, Something happened in John and that scared Sherlock Holmes to the point that the case was hardly relevant anymore.

Sherlock was glued to his microscope when John got out of the shower. He'd taken the night shift last night upon Sherlock's request and after almost losing his job because his boss caught Sherlock in the medical files, and working an extra day shift to make up for it, John was in need of a good cuppa tea, No, he was ready for a pint. He went into the kitchen, making tea, watching the unaware Sherlock work. He felt his leg start to hurt as he went to his chair and opened the newspaper. His leg was still hurting and he debated getting his cane from his room. John gruffed at the pain as he adjusted himself in his chair. “Your leg is fine.” Sherlock throws from the kitchen. It annoyed John. Yes, it did. Of course it did. He shrugged it off going to his newspaper heard Sherlock get up and go over to his violin. He started to play. It annoyed john. He put down his newspaper with an aggravated sigh. 'Sherlock, could you not?” his eyes bore into the man standing in front of the window. Sherlock just looked back at him for a second and kept playing. Then the fight started up with the usual “YOU'RE BLOODY IMPOSSIBLE!” from John and Sherlock being just as loud as John. He'd just solved a case. There was nothing that could tick John off quicker then the childish state of being Sherlock takes on when he's bored. Tonight was no exception. In fact, John's mood tonight made it worse. With “I ALMOST LOST MY JOB BECAUSE OF YOU!” to which Sherlock replied with his favorite tactic, the silent treatment. So it was no wonder when Mrs. Hudson, who had just got back from dinner with her son, heard John yell “I'M GOING TO GET MILK” and quickly ushered her son out of the hallway.

John was steaming as he walked down the street to Tesco's. For some reason there were a bunch of college kids on the streets and he didn't like it. All of their faces laughing, drunkenly stumbling down the street. Something lurched inside John but he ignored it. Too upset at Sherlock, too intent on getting the milk. Tesco's was no better. The drunken college kids followed him there too. He avoided them, grabbing the milk and getting in line at the next open register. There was a young lady at the register and he asked if she knew why there were so many college kids out tonight. She said they weren't college kids but troops returned from the war many of which were going to start college soon. John realized the feeling then and was momentarily stunned. The woman asked if he was alright and he replied mumbling something about his coming home from the war. He picked up his bag, desperate to get back to the flat. He didn't have a problem thinking about his war days but something bothered him and as he hurried out onto the streets he ran into a group of them and the one he actually hit said “Hey, watch where you're going, pops.” and it hit John. The kid's face, the group of them, the entire lack of sobriety, the name, Pops. There was only a few people who called him that and they were his army buddies. John felt his knees give way as he remembered one in particular, Seb. He joined the royal army straight out of high school as a way of funding for his college education. They called him Pops not just because he was the oldest of the group but because of his caring, almost father like nature. There seemed to never be a serious moment between the lot of them, but that's not what haunted him now. What he heard was gun fire and screaming, both of commands and pain. It was a surprised attack He felt the pain in his leg as they had to keep on their feet. He felt the pain as he was pushed out of the way of a shot and he saw Seb dying in his arms, the memory blurry laced in pain and tears. He saw himself staring at his friend's face as he carried his friend towards help. He has a wife and a kid, he felt his mind scream. “Don't you dare die! You've got too much to live for!” John heard in a distant voice. He felt himself crying and yelled for his friend to stay awake. Then it hit and he collapsed. The bullet hit his shoulder and he fell to the ground.. the last thing John remembers was the sight of Seb shaking and shriveling in front of him and as everything faded to blackness all he knew was the voice choking out “I'm sorry”.

Sherlock knew something was wrong. John would have been home by now. Could he have gone to a pub? Maybe but probably not, whenever they had a fight John always came straight home to apologize and go to bed. Sherlock didn't like it. Then he heard the drunk soldiers stumble down the street and it hit him. It didn't matter that Sherlock was still giving him the silent treatment. It didn't matter that John still hadn't apologized. All Mrs. Hudson and her son could hear was what she described as a hurried ruckus but they couldn't hear what started it. A small whisper from Sherlock “John”. He was out of 221 and on baker street in an instant running through the street not bothering to spare so much as a thought to the people he knocked out of the way in his sprint. Sherlock went John's normal route to Tesco's at rapid speed but not missing a single thing, ever corner, dark ally, restaurant, passing face, stumbling drunk, every pub until he saw John outside against the wall of Tesco's where he'd collapsed. An officer was over him trying to talk to him and Sherlock pushed him out of the way explaining to him that he was the unmoving man's friend. Sherlock gave the officer a look and he went away and he was already calling John's name shaking him for his attention. “GOD DAMN IT, JOHN. I'M SORRY!” he yelled as a final attempt. He started crying and John came back to the present.


	2. Chapter 2

He listened. It was all he could do in the darkness. First, all he heard the beeping of the stupid hospital monitor. Then he heard hushed voices and a woman’s sobs. He knew it was Harry's. Then he heard a faint call of a professional and concerned voice “Sir? Sir are you alright?” he tried to figure out what it was. Then he heard a voice he knew “Leave him alone!” he heard. “I'm his friend.” Sherlock. His entire brain screamed. There was silence and he heard footsteps fade away. “John” there was relief and fear. There was only one other time when he'd heard that tone in Sherlock's voice.“John are you alright?” “John” each time Sherlock said his name, his voice got more scared and louder. “John! Answer me!” “John!” he found himself getting closer to the voice. Sherlock. He thought again. “GOD DAMN IT, JOHN. I'M SORRY” he found himself outside of Tesco's the plastic bag with the milk in his hand. Sherlock has been shaking him because he felt a pain in his already sensitive shoulder. The shoulder with the bullet wound. He looked at the detective in front of him. His hand covering his face and a small noise coming from him which he only knew as the sound of Sherlock crying. It took him a minute to find his voice. Even so, it was still weak. “Sherlock” he said including a breath which made the words barely above a shaky whisper. There was no emotion in his voice. Just a statement. He saw the detective tense up and look at him. John's eyes we're still wide with the shock and Sherlock knew what happened. “John” Sherlock started, His voice full of relief to have his friend back. “John,” he started again. John couldn't do anything but just stare at hm “ John. I'm so sorry.” he said and his voice betrayed him. John's first emotion was confusion and he had no control over the fact that it showed blantly on his face. Then it hit him. His mouth forming an O and all of the sudden John's body jerked forward. Sherlock caught him and stopped him or else he would have gone face first into the cement. Or worse, into the street. John couldn't find words to explain how Sherlock was wrong and it didn't help when Sherlock started going off on how stupid he was and inconsiderate and the more John heard the more he wanted to scream for him to stop but he couldn't find his voice. There was a twang again of the caring he had for Sherlock. He didn't want him to be upset. He started shaking his head but then he just started shaking. He found himself further away when he heard Sherlock cry “John, please no!” but he couldn't help it. He was falling back into the blackness. He heard Sherlock calling to stay with him and he fought it. He started fighting the blackness trying desperately to cling to the sound of Sherlock's voice to move closer to it and he found himself in the detective's arms. John had opened his eyes and was staring up at the detective. Sherlock's face betrayed his relief and he told the police officer to call an ambulance and the homicide department for Lestrade. John's voice shot up then and he started in a cluster of words no one but Sherlock could understand.   
Noit'sfineireallydon'tneedtogotothehospitali'mfinereally  
and Sherlock shushed him smiling down at him but John was full of fear and Sherlock saw it on his face. “ John, you really need to see a doctor.” Sherlock said in a voice that he used when expressing concern for John's health.   
I'madoctorandIsayimfine   
Sherlock silenced him again. This time lacing his fingers through his hair. “No, John you're not. You're in shock and you need medical attention.” A damn thing you'd know about shock. John thought but he could see the pain in Sherlock's eyes. The last time he went to the hospital was when Sherlock came back a year ago. That was the last and only other time John had seen the pain in Sherlock's eyes. The same exact look as he sees now. He realized that Sherlock still thought this was because of him and as they heard the sirens getting closer and Lestrade jumped out of a car, John looked up into the detective's face and said “Sherlock, this isn't because of you.! and Sherlock was relieved under the sudden understanding of what it was.   
“Sherlock!” Lestrade called approaching the pair with the police officer. He looked down “John, are you alright?” Sherlock shot him an upset glance as John tried to speak again the words jumbling together as they did before.  
I'mfinei'mreallyfinejustabitofpainreallybuti'mreallyfinei'mokreally  
and Lestrade understood. The ambulance had pulled up by this time and Lestrade and the officer moved away but Sherlock didn't let go of john. They pulled out a kit and Sherlock snapped. “ You don't need to take his blood pressure! His pupils are dilated!” John felt himself moan “Sherlock” and Sherlock was quiet for a minute until they tried to take John's pulse. Lestrade backed the men away for a minute when one asked what Sherlock thought they needed to do. John watched his face and they all thought for a moment that Sherlock was going to punch him. Then Sherlock gritted his teeth and hissed “I don't need you to tell us what's wrong with him, I just need you to help him.” and John started to voice that he was fine but Sherlock just stared down at him and he shut up. The other man stated that they didn't know what was wrong with John and Sherlock angrily told them what he obviously knew. John was amazed. He always was whenever Sherlock explained his observation. It showed on his face and Sherlock gave a small smile when he saw it. The men went to get the stretcher and Lestrade turned to the officer to ask him what happened. Sherlock kept staring down at John trying to keep him calm even when he saw the stretcher approach them. John didn't want to go to the hospital and Sherlock knew it. But as the stretcher was returned to it's original position and began making it's way to the ambulance, John turned to Sherlock and begged him not to leave him and he didn't. Sherlock stayed with him through the ambulance and in the hospital where the took his blood pressure without a word from the detective until they tried to sedate John to which he defended his scared friend who was now shaking again until he had calmed down enough to let them. 

Sherlock hated himself. He knew something was wrong with John but he ignored it. He could have helped John if he was persistent if he didn't start that damn argument. He felt responsible and he knew John would not like that. He needed information. He needed to know what made John go into shock. John said it wasn't him and he believed him. In the first time in four years, Sherlock called Mycroft.


	3. Chapter the Last

John awoke with a start. It was morning. Sherlock was right beside his hospital bed and told him to calm down. John was confused for a minute and Sherlock waited patiently while John's mind caught up and comforted him when it did. When John calmed back down, Sherlock asked him how he was feeling. He was a bit light headed and dizzy but they both knew that was to be expected. The doctor came in to check on John and he filled John in on what Sherlock had already told him. It was repressed memories, post traumatic stress that lead to his shock and that they (they being Sherlock) had come to the conclusion that seeing the drunken soldiers wandering the streets was the cause. John waited patiently and then asked when the doctor thought he could leave. John saw Sherlock tense out few the corner of his eye and the doctor said as soon as this afternoon if all of the tests come back alright. Sherlock spoke up and John saw the doctor's reaction and knew that Sherlock had annoyed the poor man. “Of course the tests will come back alright. He's fine.” The doctor gave a nod and a smile saying “of course” and left the room. John glanced over at Sherlock ready to yell at him for being mean to the doctor but something stopped him.

The tests came back alright and that afternoon John was released from the hospital. He left under the promise that he would see his therapist more often and to let himself adjust slowly back into his everyday schedule. The doctor was actually quite nice and John felt bad that Sherlock was rude to him. The hospital called the two a cab and they wheeled him to it much against his will, as he fought it the entire time. The ride home was quiet. They didn't say much but sat right next to each other, not leaving an inch between them. John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder as he was tired. When they did arrive to Baker Street, Sherlock payed the cabbie, fetched John's cane and handed it to him. John just looked at Sherlock and shook his head. Sherlock held both doors open for him and made him tea when John was placed on the couch. Sherlock was careful, even a bit tentative and it pissed John off. It struck in John's mind that this mirrors the exact behavior Sherlock had when he was released from the hospital when Sherlock came back. Sherlock handed John the cup carefully and John just stared at him, not drinking the tea. “It isn't your fault.” John stated. He expected, no wanted, Sherlock to get upset, to object, to show some sign of his normal self. He should have known better. “ Of course not.” was all Sherlock said with a fake smile on his face. “But the memories!” he began with a hint of desperation in his voice when Sherlock's tiny voice made him stop. “Yes.” he paused. “ But we fought. I upset you and you left to get the milk.” the quiet gentle tone had something else to it but John couldn't figure it out. It wasn't passion, or any kind of emotion at all. It was almost the opposite. Sherlock spoke a little louder “Which reminds me.....” with that he went up and grabbed the milk off the kitchen showed it to me, and placed it back in the refrigerator. John opened his mouth to speak but Sherlock answered in his tiny voice again “Lestrade dropped it off after he saw us off in the ambulance.” the way Sherlock was speaking scared John and it showed on his face. Except Sherlock wasn't looking at his face. “Drink your tea, John.” Sherlock said in his normal voice. John realized that it was a weak moment another instant in which Sherlock lost himself to the dreaded sentiment. Sentiment he knew through John.

Sherlock went with John to his therapy sessions. Well, the first couple of them, It was amusing watching Sherlock deduce and insult her. He felt defenseless against her and Sherlock defended him and taught her that she really needs to slow down because John isn't going to come out and say all of it and that made a difference and although he wasn't allowed in the sessions anymore, Sherlock always waited outside for him and had John tell him about it. Then they'd run off to a crime scene or go back home to a cup of tea and that was the only change. Sherlock paid more attention to John's emotions and took pride in the fact that John had dubbed him a better therapist then his own but nothing ever changed. They still solved crimes. Sherlock rarely ever ate or slept and he got bored but something stopped the fights from erupting into John leaving the flat and as a peace offering, Sherlock would give John a bottle of nice Champagne that he undoubtedly stole from Mycroft. Eventually, John returned to his pub, unaffected by the college kids. Then they left, found another pub, John guessed and Sherlock joined him at the pub which he felt was an odd experience, one he'd never had before but it became routine and normal and John Watson wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world.


End file.
